This a Hickey or a Bruise?
by Always With Amy
Summary: Kurt makes an exception to his "no more booze" rule. Sam woos. Santana just tags along. - BIOTA; spoilers only for the promo. Questionably categorized.


_[Think I need a ginger ale_

_That was such an epic fail]_

Kurt hates drinking. He vowed to never do it again, after what he did to Miss Pillsbury's shoes last year.

But watching Blaine kiss _Rachel _as hungrily as he is? Yeah, it's enough to make Kurt grab a wine cooler. He briefly wants to laugh as he remembers that April Rhodes – perpetually-drunk April Rhodes – was the first one to tell him about _courage _(even if she told him about it in the liquid form), but decides not to, and he downs his drink instead while glaring at Blaine's curly hair.

And when he finally manages to separate Blaine and Rachel – _finally_; for Gucci's sake, the boy is supposed to be _gay _– his earlier concerns about taking his turn with the bottle have completely disappeared, and liquid courage is running through his veins. He grins with a sort of devilish giddiness as he flicks his wrist violently, and sets the bottle spinning.

Spinning, and spinning, and _spinning_, until it finally stops on Santana – Sam – Santana – _Sam_. With the way that the two of them are all over each other (or she's all over him, anyway), all arms and legs in a very octopus-like manner, it's hard to tell which of them the bottle's pointing to.

That's not going to stop a bunch of drunken teenagers from seeing something funny, though, because Mike's very literally rolling on the floor laughing and gasping out, "_Both!_" Tina quickly picks up on it, and within a matter of seconds, it's a chant. A disorderly chant that's really not so much a _chant _as it is a serious of cries overlapping one another with poor timing.

Kurt gives Samtana a curious look to gauge their reactions (and Sam's level of intoxication, since Kurt, despite being buzzed himself, isn't interested in being accused of taking advantage of some poor, nice straight boy), only to see Santana sliding awkwardly to the side of Sam's lap, and patting the blond boy's thighs invitingly.

"You heard 'em, K – get your _fine _ass over here, baby boy, and pucker up those cute little lips of yours. I could _definitely _go for a threesome right about now," the Latina says suggestively, looking a bit more ruddy-cheeked than usual, but otherwise seeming very like her usual, lewd, sober self. Sam nods eagerly, his eyes a little glassy as he stares very intently (and somewhat discomfortingly) at Kurt's mouth.

Ducking his head self-consciously for a moment, before turning to give an o-mouthed Blaine a sickeningly sweet smile, Kurt briefly wonders if it's worth it, to waste his first consensual kiss with a male on a straight boy for a game that the boy most likely won't remember in the morning. By the time he's clambered over Rachel to get to the pair, however, his concerns have again pulled a Houdini. Because _it's so worth it _when the straight boy is _Sam_. The same _Sam _that Kurt's still convinced has homosexuality in him, somewhere. The same _Sam _that still makes Kurt's stomach flutter, even without the aid of wine coolers, because _there's totally a spark between them_. And the same _Sam _that Blaine's glaring at with alarming intensity for someone as wasted as he is.

Uncertainly, Kurt hesitates, and stares at Sam's waiting lap. Santana rolls her eyes at his reluctance, and proceeds to take a sharp hold on his arm and yank him forward.

Kurt's face is met with a _very firm chest _that he _very_ _clearly_ _remembers_ to be _very, very sexy _from their Rocky Horror attempts. With absolutely no shame or dignity to be found, Kurt giggles and blushes as he rights himself, before casting the blond boy a final look that asks _Are you sure you don't mind doing this?_

Sam's answer is to press his mouth with a surprising amount of tenderness and care to Kurt's, and to grip the brunette's hips _ever so gently_. For one startled, breathless moment, Kurt can't find the mental capacity to do anything more than stare at the prettily closed eyes in front of him. When that moment passes, and it doesn't seem to have diminished Sam's willingness, Kurt lets his own eyes flutter closed as he tries to kiss back as best his instincts know how to.

Kissing Brittany was one thing. She smelled very sweet (like cotton candy), her lips were soft (because of the chapstick he'd introduced her to, he thought), and she obviously knew what to do (though Kurt hadn't particularly _enjoyed _kissing her, there certainly hadn't been anything _horrible _about their brief make-out session) – but the fact of the matter remained that _she was a girl_, and Kurt just wasn't attracted to her.

Kissing Karofsky – or rather, being kissed by Karofsky – had been something else entirely. He had been sweaty, his lips had been chapped and rough, and the whole situation had been _bad_. Despite that, Kurt had been slightly – _slightly _– aroused by the osculation, because _Karofsky was a boy_. Even if the kiss had been godawful, Kurt was still gay, and Karofsky was still undeniably male.

Kissing Sam, however, is in another level of categorization entirely. He smells of some sort of body spray (Old Spice, Kurt thinks), his lips are surprisingly well-cared for (Kurt vaguely recalls hearing from Quinn that Sam had received a stocking full of chapstick for Christmas), and it's _nice_. Because Sam is _male_, and Sam isn't _forcing himself_, and Sam seems _sincere_.

When Sam's hands drift to cup Kurt's ass _very firmly_, though not so firmly that it's at all threatening, Kurt doesn't pull them away. Instead, he fists his hands in Sam's tee-shirt, and tries to pull the blonde _closeclosecloser_. When Sam's lips part against Kurt's, and his tongue gently runs along the seam of Kurt's mouth in a request for entry, Kurt doesn't retreat. Instead, he opens his mouth wide and revels in the sensation of Sam exploring his mouth like fucking _Lewis and Clark_.

And when Sam pulls away, panting and flushed, Kurt doesn't think about how _oh shit Sam's straight_. Instead, he just keeps staring at the boy whose excitement he can feel pressing up against his awkwardly-positioned knee, and offers him a nervous smile in apology – even though he is _really __**not sorry**_.

The rest of the New Directions catcall and wolf-whistle their approval – while Blaine sulks behind the rest of them, curled in on himself and looking rather like a pouty child – and Sam grins dazzlingly. Kurt giggles again, and turns to face Santana, who looks like she very much _approves_, before leaning down and pressing a very soft, very chaste, very simplekiss to the girl's lips.

She smirks at him knowingly, and casts a wink in Sam's direction before standing up (without wobbling, Kurt notices appreciatively) and declaring, "Kurt's my bitch now, y'all hear? I'm talking to you, Hobbit."

Blaine looks around wildly, apparently in search of the hobbit her statement was directed to, until Mercedes pulls him to the side and whispers – fairly loudly – that "She means you, hunny."

When Santana sits down again, next to Sam, and nestles herself under one of his arms, as the other wraps itself around Kurt's waist – _lovingly_, it almost seems – Artie grins and spins the bottle. Kurt watches it rotate for a short time, but finds himself distracted by the time it finally starts to slow.

Distracted by the feeling of Sam's lips kissing up and down his neck slowly, suckling small marks into his skin every so often. It's not like it's a bad distraction – _it's definitely a good one _– it's just more _interesting _than anything else. Because Sam's supposed to be _straight_, and _drunk_, and with the way he's acting, Kurt can't help but _really, really hope _that he's not either one.

"He's really pissed off," Sam mumbles into a _very sensitive _bit of flesh underneath Kurt's jaw. Letting out a low moan (which is promptly drowned out by manic laughter; apparently Artie's spin landed on Tina, and the two are picking up exactly where they left off when they broke up), Kurt instinctively arches his head back to get more of the contact. Sam doesn't disappoint, and Kurt distantly wonders if he'll have a hickey tomorrow.

It's only when Santana chuckles, and whispers, "Wasn't that the point?" into Sam's shoulder that Kurt remembers _Oh right, Sam said something_, and manages to control himself. (Even if it is getting _really fucking hard _with the way that Sam keeps _touching him_ and _kissing him_ and just _being Sam_.)

"Who's pissed off?" he asks distractedly, sitting up abruptly and looking around the room quickly in search of someone emanating irritation. It doesn't take long, because where most everyone else is cheering on Tina's and Artie's face-eating contest (including Brittany, whose eyes are lit up in a way that they usually only are when she's telling Kurt about her _sweet lady kisses_, and Mike, who's eyeing Mercedes in a way that would normally put Kurt into Baby Girl Protection Mode), Blaine is still sitting very sullenly apart from the group – by this point, he's apparently migrated to the corner.

With an instantly disinterested "_Oh_," Kurt falls back against Sam's chest, and toys with a lock of the blonde's hair. It's really soft hair, he notices, even if it has been treated to the worst attempt at a dye job Kurt has ever witnessed. "Was that the point?" he inquires curiously, as he notices that Sam has weirdly cute ears, that Kurt feels like he has the desire to nibble on.

Sam stiffens very abruptly, and Kurt immediately fears that the boy somehow heard Kurt's thoughts about his ears. When he remembers that that's impossible (he's pretty sure it is, anyway), he relaxes, and kisses Sam's cheek a little more sloppily than he intended to. Sam's face is really warm, and Kurt wonders if he's blushing – it seems like it's gotten darker in the room; maybe it's just Kurt.

"No, the point was to try and woo you," Sam says, slurring lightly as a small, sorrowful looking smile places on his mouth. It's a small, sorrowful looking smile that depresses Kurt an awful lot, and results in the brunette trailing his lips down to the corner of Sam's mouth. "But I'm okay – and you and Bland are even now or something, right? So it's okay. I'm okay."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt grips onto Sam's collar in a manner that's a lot more forceful than his usual one, and mutters, "Even is _boring_." He proceeds to crash their lips together again, and it's still just as nice as the first time, if a little more painful because - _ow, that was a tooth_.

Sam doesn't seem to mind so much, since he opens his mouth without having to be prompted, and Kurt's tongue gets a turn to play Dora the Explorer. (Kurt thinks there's something wrong with that mental comparison, but he decides he'll work on his metaphors – similes – _whatever _– when he doesn't have more important things to be concerning himself with.)

_[Yeah, we danced on tabletops_

_And we took too many shots_

_Think we kissed, but I forgot]_

After…_some time _passes, Kurt pulls away from Sam – _sadly_, because the boy _really _knows how to kiss; he _definitely _is more than "okay" – and looks around the room. By now, everyone's starting to look like they're winding down, and they've all mostly paired off to suck some face. Even Santana and Mercedes seem to have acquainted, as Mercedes looks more than a little disheveled, and Santana's looking at the shorter girl's slumbering form with new appreciation. (Tina, Brittany, Mike, and Artie all happen to be mysteriously missing, Kurt notices vaguely.)

Blaine and Rachel are huddled together in the corner, now, apparently holding a very meaningful conversation that Kurt can only catch snippets of. He doesn't think he's missing much, when there's a loud sniffle, and Rachel inquires, "Do you think I would make a good blonde?"

Santana rolls her eyes with a loud _huff_, before she turns her attentions back to Kurt and Sam, and grins in her _Santana has a plan _way. Dragging the two of them to their feet, she paves a way towards Rachel's bathroom with her willpower alone (even after seeing the Lopez-Zizes fight, Puck still knows enough to _scramble the hell outta the way _when Santana Lopez has that determined glint in her eyes), and proclaims, "Let's have some fun, boys."

When she shoves them inside the small bathroom, Kurt wants to retort that what she has in mind doesn't seem fun at all, just painful. But then Santana's stripping down, and Sam's following suit, and Kurt suddenly sees the fun part.

(He thinks that he's going to call Sam's abs _the fun part _from now on, because there's a _lot _that he could do with those babies. And cutting glass is not on that list, even though _it totally could be_.)

Quickly, Kurt fumbles to get his clothes off – though he's still _careful_; he's wearing McQueen for Gaga's sake – because there is _no way _that he's going to be the only one in this splinter-party still clothed. By the time he gets to their same state of undress, however – they've already situated themselves in the bathtub, and Santana's going at Sam's neck from behind like a hickey-making _machine_. And while it is vaguely intriguing for a moment to see Santana's _Santananess _by itself – her legs really are to die for, Kurt notices – Kurt has more important matters at hand, and he promptly situates himself between Sam's legs.

It starts out really awkward – bathtubs are not idea places for threesomes, Kurt notes thoughtfully – but soon enough, they get a rhythm. A rhythm that includes Sam pounding into Santana, while she has her tongue down Kurt's throat over Sam's shoulder, and Kurt has his fingers in Sam's ass. Surprisingly enough, it's _not that weird_.

Well, it is. But it's not so weird that Kurt's creeped out by it, and can't think of anything else other than _omg I'm kissing a girl_. Not when he's watching Sam – who had damn well _better _be bisexual, because if he's not, he's depriving Kurt of a fantastically viable option for a crush – come, while Santana moans against Kurt's mouth, and Sam's ass clenches around Kurt's suddenly hypersensitive cock.

Yeah, it _really is that weird_. But it could be worse.

_[We went streaking in the park_

_Skinny-dipping in the dark_

_Then had a ménage e trois]_

When Kurt wakes up, he's sore all over. His head is killing him, his neck is stiff, and - _oh shit_.

His ass _probably _shouldn't hurt like it does.

Opening his eyes slowly, he tries to figure out where the _hell _he is. He finds out absolutely nothing about his surroundings, except that it's _really bright_, and someone needs to turn out that light _right now_.

Groaning, Kurt reaches up a hand to shield his eyes, and hits something cold and solid in the process. Cautiously, he creaks open his eyes again (it's not as bad the second time around, though that light is still _way too bright_) and glances to his left.

He sees white, and not in the dazed and confused sort of way. It's porcelain, and looks like the wall of a bathtub…

It most _definitely _is the wall of a bathtub, he realizes, as he sits up and bangs his head excellently against a faucet. With a sharp "_Fuck my life_," he rubs at the new sore spot on the back of his head, before scanning the bathtub he's in.

Though he's alone in the bathtub, he's apparently not alone in the bathroom, because there's a pair of feet on the floor by the toilet. Fearfully, Kurt lets his eyes inch upwards towards the figure's face – and wishes he could go back to sleep when he sees a large mouth, blonde hair, and the prettiest pair of blue-grey eyes that he's never wanted to see staring at him with the earnestness that they are.

"I'm sorry," he squeaks out as he tries to escape the confines of the porcelain tub. He only stumbles once, over what looks like a loofa that's been used for very inappropriate purposes, and tries to maintain as apologetic a look as he can while still avoiding the shooting pain of _everything_.

Sam reaches out a strong arm to – _help him_? – and Kurt can only stare up at the boy who he finds to look unduly _gorgeous_, situation considered. "I'm…really sorry," Kurt mumbles again as he cautiously pulls out of the other boy's grip. Kurt's clothes – his _McQueen_s- are on the toilet tank, and he finds himself wishing he hadn't worn skinny jeans. He could really go for a pair of loose cotton boxers right about now.

There's a soft, pleasant noise coming from Sam that makes Kurt turn around _way too fast_, and that turns out to be him _laughing_. For a moment, Kurt bites his lip and stares up at the other boy, wondering why it is that Sam's laugh is so unfairly unfamiliar, before he realizes that _Sam's laughing at him_.

"Don't apologize," Sam says with a gentle smile in explanation to Kurt's bemused (and more than a little bit sullen) look. "Wine coolers and spin the bottle – never a good combination, you know? It's…cool, Kurt."

Suddenly, Kurt's glad for the pounding in his head that's making it so impossible to think. Even though he probably should have expected as much the second he realized that he bottomed for someone last night, it still hurts a lot more than anything physical to hear that _it was just an accident._ Forcing a weak smile, Kurt nods, and blushes as he gestures uncertainly to the door. "I…know that we're passed that point, but I need to get changed, and…"

Kurt's never seen anyone break for a door so quickly, and he's almost grateful for it, considering the way that the tears stinging at the back of his eyes are starting to escape. When the door opens, however, no one leaves – instead, someone _comes in_.

"I _knew_ I heard you," Santana says loudly, though she seems to catch herself when Kurt winces, and gives him a sympathetic look. "Sorry, lightweight," she murmurs, closing the door softly behind her and brushing past Sam to take up Kurt's arm. "So, on a scale of one to ten, how sore are you? You two must have gotten in _at least _three rounds after I left last night, and I know for a fact that you bottomed for at least two of them," she teases with an alarming lack of malice, and at a disturbingly kind and quieter volume.

Gaping, Kurt drops onto the closed toilet seat with a hiss of excruciating pain, before asking, "_Three_? What the _hell _did I miss?"

While Sam blushes a crimson color, and Santana stifles what would have most likely been a very loud laugh, Kurt begins to fear the worst, because _Santana Lopez isn't angry that Kurt had sex with her boyfriend_. Santana may be a lot of things, but if there's one thing Kurt has _never _known her to be, it's _forgiving_.

"Don't worry – the memories'll come back to you eventually," Santana assures with a wide grin. "You, me, and Sammy, K. And then you and Sammy, and me and Britt, Chang Squared, and Wheels. And I think Puckerman, Man Hands, and Zizes, too," Santana lists thoughtfully, as Kurt struggles to wrap his head around _him, Santana, and Sam._

Slowly, as Santana continues talking about all the people that ended up hooking up last night – from the sounds of it, Tina had a very eventful evening – Kurt's memory does indeed begin to cooperate. Though everything's cloudy, he _does _remember the spin the bottle Sam referred to. He remembers Blaine kissing _Rachel_, and being _very into it_. He remembers being pissed off that Blaine kissed Rachel, and had been _very into it_.

He remembers that Sam tasted like some kind of fruit – raspberries, he thinks. He remembers that Santana has a birthmark above her left hipbone. He remembers that Sam likes it slow and easy. He remembers that Santana likes to bite. He remembers that Sam has incredible stamina.

He remembers that Santana left at one point, teasing, "_I can't stand in the way of true, gay love in Berry's____house. Her dads would be __**pissed**_."

And he remembers that neither he nor Sam denied her declaration.

Things are hazy. Kurt doesn't remember details of what happened last night, and he gets the feeling that there are some memories he just won't be getting back any time soon. But he does remember that _Sam has beautiful eyes when he's smiling_. And he remembers that making Sam smile made _him _smile more than anything has in a while.

So when he surges forward, dropping his clothes in the process, and presses a tentative and brief, but _oh so longing _kiss to Sam's lips – a kiss that's _returned, __**eagerly**_ - he thinks that he's not going to be blaming the alcohol for anything that happened last night. Because he's always thought that there was _something, _some _instant spark _between him and Sam. And at least now he knows that if he's imagining it, he's at least not the only one.

_[It's a blacked-out blur_

_But I'm pretty sure it ruled_

_Damn]_

_**xoxox**_

**AN: **This…was supposed to be a post-Raine-kiss bitchy!Kurt angstfest piece… I honestly have no idea how this happened. (Although it's probably because I love threeway ships, and Kum and Kurtana are two of my favorite singular ships.)

**AN (2): **I like to slash Tina. … A lot. And Comeback only reinforced my love of Tina slash pairings, because of that scene with her, Quinn, and Santana comparing carousel horse sweaters. (And the return of the epic dance team that is Brittina.)

**AN (3): **The song is "Last Friday Night (TGIF)" by Katy Perry. Yeah, I used Perry for a Kum(tana) fic. Kum at me, angry fangirls.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything.


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